Page 76 of Prodigal Son

“Bedroom’s back that way,” she said when he trailed kisses down her jaw and throat.

The trip there was a blur of dropped clothes, and bumping shins on furniture. And somewhere along the way, the little cautious voices in the back of her head disappeared.

She wanted this. It was happening.

Cold yellow light from a streetlamp filtered through her open blinds, striped his smooth bare chest, and her hands as she rested them there. He sat back against the headboard and pulled her up to straddle his lap, his hands unselfconsciously possessive on her hips, on her ass, on her sex. He was bold, none of that awkward first date fumbling, and she wasstarving, suddenly.

She rolled the condom down onto him, and brushed his hand away, where he was up to two fingers now, stretching her, trying to prep her like a gentleman.

“Here, move,” she said, impatient, taking his cock in her hand and lining him up. “You’re notthatbig.”

His laugh turned into a moan as she sank down, slow but relentless. “Really – really know how to – get a guy’s – confidence up.” But he was rock hard, as he filled her, and sweat glimmered at his temples, his collarbones, damp beneath her hands when she finally had him all the way inside, and reached up to clutch at his shoulders.

Not huge, but he wasn’tsmall, and it had been a while. She bit her lip and willed her body to relax. She wanted this. Right now, she needed it.

His laughter died away, and he smoothed his hands up and down her sides, soothing sweeps. “Shh, it’s alright, sweetheart,” he murmured. He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her in close; ducked his head and teased at her nipple with his tongue; sucked it lightly into his mouth. “Just relax. I don’t have to be anywhere. We’ve got all night, if you want.”

She did want. She moved, a little. And then a little more. And then tension started to bleed out of her, and her body gripped him tight, and he angled his hips just so, and – oh. It was good.

She dug her nails into his skin, and she rode him, breathing raggedly through her mouth, gasping, murmuring, loud and not caring. She came like that, vision going white behind her closed eyelids; he eased her through it, hands on her hips, sloppy kisses and whispered praises. Then he pulled out and rolled her onto her stomach, took her front behind, his teeth fastened at the top of her spine.

She was pretty sure she ripped her sheets.

Exhausted, sated, humming like an idling Jag engine, she fell asleep against his shoulder, arm flung across his chest.

She woke slowly, warm and sore, to cool silver morning light. The night before played out in her mind like something from a movie; if her head hadn’t rested on Charlie’s shoulder, her hand over the slow, steady beating of his heart, she would have thought it all a wild dream.

The smell of cigarette smoke tickled her nose, and she tipped her head back to find him awake, staring at the ceiling, cigarette held in the hand that wasn’t resting at her waist. He shouldn’t have, but he looked even cuter in the daylight, even with bedhead and the imprint of a pillowcase seam on his cheek – maybe even because of those things.

Oh, God, she’d slept with her target.

Adrenaline washed through her, and she sat up and slipped out from under his arm.

He let her go, though a single brow arched in silent question. He didn’t look like he wanted to go anywhere anytime soon, taking another drag off his smoke.

Eden turned her back to him and reached for the robe she kept slung over the bedpost. Pulled it on with trembling fingers.

“Let me guess,” he said behind her. “You’re supposed to be investigating me, not shagging me. Right?”

She froze a moment, then tied her sash and stood up. Her knees almost gave out, and she bit back a hiss as a dozen sore spots made themselves known.

“Why would you think that?” she asked, aiming for airy, ending up brittle instead.

He snorted. “Come on. I’m charming, but I’m not exactly your type, pet.”

She turned around, arms folded, and found him sitting up against the headboard, sheets tangled around his waist. His hair stood up in thick tufts, and his blue eyes sparkled in the light. Christ, he was adorable. “And how would you know my type?”

“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “Gorgeous girl like you, grown up, good job – law enforcement job. Nice clothes, nicer flat.” He cast an appreciative glance around her bedroom, then met her gaze, calm and sated but intense all at once. “Tell me you don’t normally go for the 401K set. I dare you.”

She affected a shrug. “I don’t know you. Maybe that’s you.”

He laughed, laugh lines sprouting around his eyes. “Ha! We both know I’m a dirty biker. That’s why you were after me last night. What’s the fuzz claiming I did this time?”

She frowned at him, and he didn’t seem to care.

“Are you a criminal?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

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